


Swingsets

by staredecisis



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Loose spoilers for the main quest, Post-Main Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 08:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staredecisis/pseuds/staredecisis
Summary: After the destruction of the Institute, Hancock works to adapt to the shifting politics of the Commonwealth and how to interact with a newly rescued Shaun.





	Swingsets

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! If you like this, I'd definitely recommend checking out the main fic I've been working on, Rogue Variable. This hints at a lot of what happens within it, but I made sure not to give too much away. Thanks!

He always wakes up early on the mornings the Railroad borrows her. It’s not particularly difficult to wake up; he just allows himself not to fall back asleep after reaching for a quick huff of Jet when the craving stirs him. This morning, however, he tosses a Mentat into his mouth and shifts carefully back onto his side. Tongue swipes over it in consideration, a warm rush slowly beginning to spread through his body. 

She’s been sleeping better lately, no longer waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat or worse yet, with throat hoarse and eyes pained. In truth, Hancock suspects the nightmares won’t ever entirely fade. She feels things deeply. Mina doesn’t, or perhaps can’t, forget. Whatever the case may be, if it’s relief or exhaustion that’s allowed her to sleep through the night the past few days, he’s grateful for it. God knows she could use a break.

 Her hair falls over her shoulders like a river, touching over sharp cheekbones and pooling against the ragged collar of the faded shirt she wears to bed. The first rays of the dawn begin to spill in through the empty window across the room. She’ll be getting up soon and for that, Hancock allows himself just to take her in. She looks fragile like this, ivory skin painted with the occasional bruise and eyelashes trembling with each slow breath. She isn’t, however, and anyone who suspects otherwise is in for a surprise. Mina’s learned to play that her to advantage, learned long before the bombs back when being a lawyer meant something other than antiquated misunderstandings, and he’s had the extreme joy of watching her startle more than a few people through it. 

 The corner of his mouth twists into a bitter smile. Maxson had learned that the hard way. 

 She stirs now and mumbles incoherently, curling further into the mottled skin of his neck. Her warm breath tickles as she yawns. “Sun’s up?,” Mina grumbles.

 “Just about to be,” Mentat clicks against his teeth. He swallows it, “You sleep ok?”

 “Out like a log,” She yawns again, voice steadily growing clearer as she shrugs off sleep. He isn’t particularly sure what that means, but logs aren’t known for being overly mobile, so he suspects it’s a good thing. Her eyes finally flutter open, still hazy, but he grins. 

“Mornin’, sunshine.” 

She groans and stretches catlike, twisting beneath the threadbare blanket. “Morning, Hancock.” Rolling her shoulders, Mina leans in and presses her lips to his cheek. Her mouth lingers there before finding his own. Hancock tugs her closer and sighs in contentment. Their kiss ends far quicker than he might he liked as she pulls away, flips a sea over fiery hair over her shoulder. “Shit, I have to get going-,”

 “Going with Deacon?”

 “Yes,” She casts him a sharp look just as he opens his mouth, “ _Don’t._ ” He sighs and Mina leans back down, cups his jaw. “I’ll be fine and you need to rest that arm. Besides, as one costumed man to another, he should have your full, undying support.” 

 “It’s not that bad,” Hancock snaps back, “Listen, part of the thrill that comes with bein’ a ghoul is wondering when your limbs are gonna’ start falling off. I’d like to think I sacrificed this one for a noble cause.”

 “Shh, you’re gonna’ wake up Shaun.” Mina rolls her eyes, lowering her voice. “Believe it or not, I happen to be fond of you with all of your limbs. Your left arm, in particular, is incredibly handsome.” 

 He tries to inch away as she reaches to examine the bandage wrapped neatly around his bicep, dark blood dried into the aged fabric. “Mina, darlin’, greatest thing to ever crawl out of a vault, it doesn’t even hurt!” Mina levels him a flat look and he barely holds back a yelp as she pokes it. “Ok, ok, it hurts a little, but nothing that a few chems break can’t fix.” 

 “Promise me you’ll have Curie look at it once everyone’s up.” 

 “ _Fine._ ” 

 Mina swipes her tongue over her lower lip, gaze growing contemplative. Annoyed as he may be, Hancock can’t help but admire how god damn beautiful she is, the rising dawn lighting her hair like a halo to frame her face. “Look, we both know there’s plenty of risks I’m more than willing to take, but whether or not you like it, you aren’t one of them, Hancock. Rest up, ok? I want you back out there, but not at the cost of your stunningly enticing limbs.” 

 His expression softens even as he works at one last attempt. “Sure I can’t convince you to stay just a little longer then, sister?” He reaches over, holding back as a wince as his shoulder throbs, and wraps an arm around her waist. Grinning as she obliges him, Hancock finds her mouth and kisses her deeply. It’s a slow kiss, a teasing one, and the moment her tongue gently finds his, he knows he’s succeeded. He imagines it’s a difficult thing to get used to, kissing a ghoul, but Mina’s adjusted stunningly. He shifts, a sigh escaping his lips as his hand lowers to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. 

Just as he’s ready to roll over her, brush that beautiful hair away from her beautiful face and settle between her thighs, she retreats. His eyes open, brow furrowing and Mina clicks her tongue softly against the roof of her mouth. “Was the mentat you had before I woke up... _ orange _ , by any chance?” 

 “Hey now,” Hancock rasps in protest, “I, out of the kindness of my own heart and from the depths of my own stash, go offerin’ you chems and you always turn em’ down. Can’t go trying to get sloppy seconds.” 

 “I’ll be back by tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest.” She slips from the bed and he props his head up on his good arm, “Deacon got some intel that slavers from Pittsburgh-,”

 “The Pitt,” Hancock corrects lightly. 

 “Yeah, the Pitt,” Mina grimaces, nose scrunching slightly in disdain as she reaches for the clothes neatly folded on the floor, “Anyway, now that the Institute’s gone and every synth between here and the Capitol is trying to figure out where to go, word is slavers are going to be pouring in.” There’s a brief tremor of anger in her voice, low and cold and crisp, “It makes sense, god knows the synths are confused as all hell, but even the Institute would offer a better life than being held by slavers.” 

 He admires the anger in her, always has. He’d seen it the first time he met her, had watched that pale fire light up her eyes as Finn had laid bleeding out at her feet. _You didn’t need to do that_ , she’d snarled and he’d understood her to mean, _He didn’t need to die._ It’s what’s gotten her this far, allowed her to survive those first brutal months outside of the vault. 

 Hell, it’s what’s reshaped the Commonwealth. Mina’s the future of the wastes, a future carved out from ash and rubble, but a better future. A future that promises liberty and liberty for all. 

 “If you’re gonna’ leave me here,” Hancock sighs, “Will you at least promise me you’ll give em’ hell in my absence?”

 Mina smiles, her vibrant gaze cooler now. “Promise.” 

 He watches admiringly as she slips off that ratty old shirt, lets his eyes move over the faint scars and bruises marking her back like constellations. He’d kiss each and every one if she’d let him. She glances over her shoulder as she reaches for her pants. “Your leering is noted but appreciated.” 

 Hancock smirks. “Just enjoyin' the view.” 

 The t-shirt is thrown in his face a moment later. “Pervert.” 

 “Would you have me any other way?” He leans back in bed and folds the shirt absently, placing it beside the mattress. The sun is touching the foot of the bed now. It won’t be long now until the rag tag rest of Sanctuary is up and going about their business. Hancock has to admit, while it ain’t Goodneighbor, the settlement is charming in its own little way. There’s no small amount of promise here, potential, even if fucking Danse stares at everything like it’s going to reach up and bite him. 

 “General, Mockingbird, hell, even _The Silver Shroud,_ ” Hancock muses teasingly, “All these names, which you like the most?”

 Mina rolls her eyes, buttoning the top of her shirt, but he thinks he spies a smile she’s working hard to conceal. “Sister isn’t so bad.” Tying her hair up loosely off of her shoulders, she moves to offer a final kiss. Fingers brush along his scarred cheek and he practically melts into her touch like always and the warmth resonating in his chest isn’t left over from the Mentat. “I’ll be back soon enough that you won’t even miss me, Hancock.” 

“Be safe,” He growls quietly in return, “And tell Deacon if anything goes wrong, he’ll be answerin’ to  _ me _ .”

 She snorts and makes her way to the doorway, “Please, _please_ just try and be nice to Danse, ok? He’s...confused, he has a lot to try and figure out.” 

 “Including, but not limited to, figurin' out how to pull that giant stick out of his ass.” 

 “That is _exactly_ what you are not allowed to tell him! Oh,” Mina glances over her shoulder now, adjusts the pistol at her hip, “Can you look after Shaun today? I figured it’d be a good chance for you two to get to know each other.” 

 His initial instinct is to reply that he’s not necessarily skilled in the art of taking care of himself, much less a child fresh out of the Institute, but the look in her eyes has him pause. It’s not often Mina asks much of him. She instinctually shoulders everything herself, treats asking for help as with as much joy as removing a tooth, but Hancock senses this is her hoping. She wants Shaun to like him, she wants him to like Shaun. 

 “You got it,” He nods firmly. 

 Her smile is soft. “Thanks. Show him around if you want, he’s probably sick of seeing the inside of a dusty old living room.” Mina tucks a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you later. Love you.” 

 "Love you too,” And he does, enough so he can’t quite put into all into words, though he does try his best. Hancock suspects she knows anyway. “Now get going, Deacon can’t handle free time.” 

 With a flash of a grin, the door is shut behind her and she’s gone. He sighs, sits up and runs a hand over his head. Shaun seemed to have taken to the Commonwealth roughly as well as anyone who’s used to clean water, air conditioning and food free of radiation might. Mina told him that Kellogg had taken him to Diamond City a few weeks before she’d woken up, told to all but parade him around to ensure witnesses knew where to guide her. 

 The idea of being the central hypothesis in some twisted experiment sickened him to his core, but Mina never really spoke of her thoughts on it. Both she and Shaun, well, the young Shaun sleeping in the next room, had been pieces in some batshit crazy game with every power hungry idiot above and below ground playing for keeps with the Commonwealth. From what he can tell, however, it looks like Mina had won.

He gets dressed and each article of clothing is handled gingerly, dark eyes scanning for any additional rips or tears. Satisfied that the antiques are holding up well, Hancock slips his boots on and peeks into Shaun’s room. The kid’s still asleep and it’s clear Mina’s tried to make the room as friendly for him as possible. Mama Murphy was set up in her old house, the one she’d lived in with her husband before the bombs. He’s noticed Mina strives to avoid it at all costs, politely asks someone else to go help the old woman before disappearing off to find other work. 

 Whatever house this is, it’s not a bad gig by any standard. A pile of children’s clothes is neatly folded atop an ancient dresser and he spies a baseball bat and ball resting against the wall. Shaun’s mattress is the cleanest one he’s seen in years. Mina’s trying her best, that much is evident, and the least he can do is his best in return. 

 Retreating to his room, he allows himself a hit of Jet to start off the morning and it surges through him. He blinks, inhaling slowly and savoring the sensation as he lets it slide over him. 

The sun is higher in the sky when he hears the first sounds of life outside, Dogmeat’s excited barks signaling someone’s fed him. There’s a quiet knock at the doorway and Hancock’s up in a flash, Jet shoved immediately into his jacket pocket. “You up, kiddo?” 

“Yes,” Shaun’s voice is muffled by the door and Hancock opens it, offers a smile. 

 “Any big plans for the day? Your mom’s got some business to take care of, so looks like you got a whole day free of chores.”

 Shaun’s bright green eyes blink up at him. “What are chores?”

 “Uh,...super fun things people ask you to do, you’re maybe a bit young for them.” A brow, or rather where one should be, lifts. “Nice necktie, looking to impress anyone in particular?” 

 “Mr. Valentine said I could have one of his,” Shaun beams, fingers gliding over the worn silk, “I like his hat, too. I’ve never met a detective before.” 

 “Nicky’s a good guy, even better detective. He helped your mom find you, you know.”

 “Mother said a lot of people helped,” Shaun replies quietly enough that Hancock briefly wonders if he should have brought it up at all, “Even Mr. Danse.”

 He snorts before he can help it and moves to hand a muttfruit to Shaun. It’s not exactly a gourmet breakfast, but the vines Curie’s planted out back seem to be growing well. “Yeah, even Danse, but hey, your mom’s a lil’ too humble for my liking. She’s done a lot for a whole lotta’ people.” He’s relieved when Shaun bites into the muttfruit after having stared at it with no small amount of curiosity. Hancock leans against the wall, wincing softly as his arm adjusts to the new position. “That’s what she’s not here today, why she sometimes might not be around. There’s a lot of people who count on her for things, keeps her busy, but I can guarantee you you’re the most important thing in the world to her, big guy. Your mom would’ve crossed heaven and hell to find you.” 

 He’s never seen a picture of Nate or if Mina’s managed to salvage one, she’s never shown it to him, but one look at Shaun and he doesn’t doubt Nate was handsome. Shaun has her eyes, Hancock notices, that achingly pure green but his mouth and nose belong to another. A few more years and he doesn’t doubt Shaun’ll be driving all the girls in Diamond City crazy. 

 “You got time to see something?” Hancock shrugs off the wall, delicately brushes off the front of his worn coat, “People here set something up for you.” 

 Sanctuary is already stirring to life as they walk down the cracked pavement, sun gleaming off of newly renovated metal roofs and gleaming generators neatly organized alongside homes. The settlement looks nearly a town, looks alive as people spill into their gardens and their front yards. In truth, most of this is Preston and Sturges’ doing. Mina doesn’t take any credit for it, looks like she all but wants to die whenever Preston eagerly calls her General, but Hancock knows none of this would be here without her initial actions. If nothing else, maybe that’s what she is, what’s he’s become in turn: a _spark_. 

 He holds back a smile as Shaun eagerly waves to Nick, who’s absently flipping through what appears to be a new edition of _Publick Occurrences_ and smoking an ever present cigarette. “Good morning, Mr. Valentine,” Shaun calls out politely. 

 “Well well well,” Nick folds the paper and sets it aside, “Just look who we have here. You making sure Mr. Hancock’s on his best behavior, Shaun?”

 Hancock’s nose scrunches. Mr. doesn’t sound good on him. 

 “You’re givin’ me way too little credit here, Nicky,” He holds a hand to his chest in mock pain, “We all know I’m what you might call a paradigm of ordered society.” 

 Nick snorts, stands up and flicks the cigarette away. “Mina away on business, I take it?”

 A silent look of understanding passes between them. “Mother said she should be back by tomorrow,” Shaun articulates carefully, “So Mr. Hancock is going to show me around Sanctuary.” 

 “Nailed it,” Hancock grins, patting Shaun lightly on the shoulder. It distantly occurs to him that he’s like the very first ghoul the kid has ever seen, god knows he didn’t catch glimpse of one on his brief tour of Diamond City. “Hey, Nick, that, you know, _thing_ Preston was gonna’ set up the other day, it all good to go?”

 “You bet,” Nick flashes a quick smile. He kneels down, adjusting the tie around Shaun’s neck, “Figured you needed to something to play with aside from rusty old cars, right? Make sure you thank Preston later for it, he put in a lot of work.” 

 Shaun grins eagerly and Hancock nudges him gently, “Go ahead! Right down the block, big guy.” 

 With that, Shaun is sprinting off and sprinting the sort of run exhibited by someone who clearly hasn’t spent a lot of time in open spaces. Hancock makes a mental note to help the kid with it later. He looks back to Nick. “Mina took off with Deacon this morning, something about slavers.”

 “Guessing that arm put you out of commission then, huh?” The look Nick receives says everything. He nods, leaning back against the aged picket fence. “I know the past week has been a blur and, well, Shaun complicates things, but what’s the plan with you two? You thinking about heading back to Goodneighbor?”

 Hancock shifts his weight and the siren song of Jet is suddenly louder. “Yeah-,” He scratches the back of his head, a loose shrug following, “Ain’t exactly had the time to have that conversation yet.”

 Nick seems to sense the anxiety around the topic and reaches out to put a hand on his thin shoulder. “Whatever needs to happen? It’ll happen.” He nudges him. “Now go make sure Shaun doesn’t go trying to ride a mirelurk or something because-”

 “Mina’ll kill me,” Hancock finishes the statement with a snort, “I know, I know.” With a wave, he makes his way down the remnants of the street. Fingers fish into his pockets and he pops a Mentat into his mouth, deciding it’s best not to go and openly indulge in chems in front of a kid. An addict? Certainly and unashamedly, but not an inconsiderate one. 

 When he rounds the corner, Shaun is simply standing and staring at the old playground equipment in apparent confusion. Preston had come up with the idea, bless him, and had taken the steps to ensure it had been scavenged and set up while Mina had taken some well deserved rest. Preston was a good man, Hancock had to admit. Maybe not his type of good, maybe didn’t engage in the same kind of actions he would, but there were different types of good. There were gradients of good, he’d come to understand with time and Preston was the sort of person the Commonwealth needed, a symbol of renewal and reconstruction. 

 That was never his forte and it certainly never would be. Hancock knows full well he exists as a symbol of rebellion. He’d always delighted in dismantling the status quo, in offering an alternative. It’s just that now the status quo seems better than it has in a long time. For the first time in a long time, it feels as if he’s lost the instinct to fight, to run. 

 With a snort, he supposes that’s what most people call peace. 

 "You alright there, bud?”

 Shaun glances over his shoulder, a slow flush creeping over his pale cheeks. “Mr. Hancock, I don’t know what this is. We...we didn’t have these in the Institute.” 

 “Between you and me,” Hancock cracks a laugh, boot tapping against the bottom of the swingset, “I didn’t either. Your mom talked about em’, said back when they had these huge schools, kids would come out and play on these.”

 Shaun squints at the swings. 

 "Come on, I’ll show ya’.” He gestures to the swing, moving idly in the breeze, and Shaun slowly, cautiously settles into it. “Start off by kickin’ your feet back and forth.” 

 He steps back and Shaun obliges him, a slow grin creeping over his face. The swing creaks loudly enough Hancock looks up, all but ready to scoop Shaun away before it collapses, but thankfully it appears to be steadier than it looks. 

 "You like it up here?” Hancock rests against the corner of the swing as Shaun tentatively kicks his legs, getting accustomed to the motion. “I mean, outside the Institute.” He decides to remain neutral and hold back his true opinion. 

 Shaun’s nose scrunches in thought and he looks so much like Mina that it makes his chest ache. “Everything’s a lot...dirtier, but Mother says before long you get used to it.” His head tilts back as he swings, a tiny bit higher with each kick. “The sky is overwhelming.” 

 “Damn, guess they didn’t have that down there, did they?” 

 “No,” Shaun shakes his head, “The closest thing they had was a simulator in Biosciences. When they were working with animals, it would look like a sky, but if you looked close you could see the panels.” Another kick of his legs and Hancock feels a shiver creep down his spine. “I didn’t like the gorillas, they were too..big.” 

 “Well,” Hancock nods, “There’s none up here, so you’re good to go, kiddo.” He decides not to mention the fascinating array of other deadly things now crawling around instead. “You wanna’ go higher? I can push.” 

 “Please!” An edge of excitement creeps into the boy’s words and the emotion 

 Hancock shifts off the edge of the swing. He gives his shoulder a tentative stretch, then carefully places his hands on Shaun’s back to push him a little more. “Did, uh, your mom ever happen to talk about me?” There’s a hundred things he wants to ask, if Mina’s explained Nate’s absence and his presence and if he _understands._

 "Mhm,” Shaun nods pleasantly, “She said you’re a mayor and that you’re a good man, Mr. Hancock.” 

 He tries to hold back a smile, lipless mouth twisting despite his best efforts as he gives Shaun another gentle push. “That so, huh? You can just call me Hancock, if you want, everyone does. The mister part makes me feel old and boring.”

 “Alright,...Hancock,” Shaun tries the word slowly, as if getting used to it on his tongue. “She said I should ask you about the Revolutionary War sometime and that she loves you. Oh, and that if any candy falls out of your pocket, it’s not candy and I shouldn’t eat it.” 

 Hancock rasps a laugh, “Yeah, it’s...uh, adult candy. Tastes terrible, wouldn’t recommend it.” 

 Shaun swings for a while longer, soaring high enough that Hancock’s briefly worried for his safety and cobbles together an apology to Mina if the kid comes back bruised but victorious. Hell, the kid deserves the right to get himself a few bruises. From the little he had seen of the Institute, the rooms and halls and labs he had glimpsed while running alongside Desdemona and the others, Shaun had been kept like a pristine experiment. Easy as it all must have been for him, pristine was no way to live. At least up here, with shirts scavenged from bombed out stores and a rusted swingset, he’s free. 

 Shaun scrambles all over the rest of the cobbled together playground for a few hours, occasionally perking up and asking varying questions. They’re endearingly odd, with more than a few revolving around how excited he is to see it rain, and Hancock doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the rain’s pretty damn dangerous up here. Next comes a tour of just about everything in Sanctuary, complete with an explanation of how caps work after a conversation with one of the caravans moving through. 

 By the time the sun’s begun to set, each of Shaun’s steps are a little bit slower and Hancock can see him desperately struggling not to yawn. Shaun spies Nick as they round the corner to the house, yellow gaze gleaming in the dark. He waves wildly and Nick returns it coolly, striding forward in that loose amble only the synth can master. 

 “You keep him out of trouble, Shaun?”

 “Yes, Mr. Valentine,” Shaun nods proudly, shoulders squaring up, “He said I could be the mayor of Sanctuary.” 

 Nick arches a brow, “That so? That’s a pretty big honor, Shaun, especially coming from the Commonwealth’s finest mayor. You sure you can handle it?” 

 Hancock’s caught off guard by the sudden pang of guilt. He thinks of his brother, or what was left of his brother inside that monstrosity, but blinks it away quickly. Ruffling through Shaun’s hair gently, Hancock replies. “Handle it? Nicky, Shaun here was _born_ for it, I’m tellin’ ya. Ain’t that right, little guy?”

 Shaun beams. 

 “Come on, Shaun, let’s get ya’ off to bed before your mom thinks I’m a bad influence,” Hancock nods up the street. Nick makes a muffled sound as he chokes back laughter. Hancock shoots him a quick look in return. 

 Lighting a kerosene lamp once they step in, Hancock makes a mental note to ask Sturges if he can wire the settlement’s generators over here. Least they can do for Shaun is give the kid a light switch after the wonder of the Institute. It’s startlingly dark here. He’s used to the ever-present glow of Goodneighbor, neon glittering against the night sky. It’s quieter here, too, enough so that he can hear the crickets chirping outside. 

 He hadn’t even been able to hear them in Diamond City has a kid. Truthfully, he hadn’t even known they’d managed to survive until now. 

 Shaun very carefully takes his shoes off, placing them neatly alongside the corner of his room. Hancock suspects that’s a holdover from the Institute. 

 Reaching into a cabinet and withdrawing a small box, Hancock sits down aside Shaun. “Any chance you were gifted with the joy of Fancy Lads in the Institute?”

 Shaun blinks and shakes his head. “I don’t know what they are.”

 Hancock grins wryly, opening the box carefully and holding it out. “Course’ the Institute would go and deny you one of the finer things in life.”

 One of the small cakes is withdrawn and Shaun turns it over, examining it against the flickering lamplight. 

 "You can eat it,” Hancock offers, “It’s pretty good. Well, it’s good for up here, anyway.” 

Taking a slow bite, Shaun’s mouth breaks into a grin and a bit of crumbs shoot out as he replies, “It’s...very sweet.”

Hancock declines to state that it might be partially due to the radiation. “Can’t have ya’ up here and not have you know what our finest cuisine is, kiddo. Just don’t tell your mom, ok? Those things ain’t exactly healthy, so we’ll keep it our little secret, huh?” 

It doesn’t take long until Shaun’s asleep after that, curled up beneath the blanket Mina had carefully scavenged for him. His eyelashes tremble as a faint breeze sweeps through the window and Hancock can spy a few, fresh new freckles scattered across the top of his nose.  He looks so small then that it’s almost startling, something practically fragile. 

 Maybe one day Shaun’ll understand that he’s the reason the Commonwealth has changed, the first spark that started the fire that swept through the wastes and scorched the Brotherhood and the Institute in its wake. All this, Hancock thinks, for a child. All this for liberty. 

 All of this for love. 

 It’s late by the time Mina crawls into bed and the last, warm tinges of the Jet slowly wearing off. He pulls her close and he can smell the remnants of sweat on her, the acrid hint of the wastes. He likes this, finds himself comforted by this. She’d always smelled sterile when she’d come back from the Institute, all but reeked of pristine chemicals and chlorinated water. He prefers this and runs his fingers slowly through her hair, pupil-less eyes trained out her outline in the dark. He doesn’t spy any injuries, no new bruises or cuts and sighs with relief. 

 “You kick ass today, sister?” He rasps softly. 

 Mina snorts and rolls closer. Her hand moves to rest over his chest and she doesn’t flinch when her fingers skirt over the hollow of his ribs, each bone all but laced with a thin layer of skin. She’s never flinched. “You’re saying that as if everything I do doesn’t kick ass.” Her head rests against his good shoulder now, a contented hum following. “How’d it go with Shaun today?”

 “Taught him how to cook up his first batch of chems, kid’s a natural. Must have gotten your brains.”

 “Oh, perfect! No better way to have him learn the economics of the Commonwealth by turning him into a little chem lord.” 

 Hancock grins wryly now, though his voice softens. “Shaun’s a real good kid. Looks enough like you that it’s kinda’ freakin’ me out.” 

 Her fingers trace absently over his collarbone, her touch tender as always. “Thank you, John.” She doesn’t call him that often, saves it predominantly for when he’s inside of her and her hands are trembling over his ruined visage that he can’t understand why she seems to so adore, but the rare times she addresses him by his real name he knows it’s something she means deeply. He likes when she calls him that. “He likes you, you know.”

 He shrugs loosely, a ripple of humor slipping into his words. “There’s worse kids to have to babysit. I mean, fuckin’ _Danse-_ ”

 “Shut up, Hancock,” She sighs and nestles against him. 

 He lies still, feeling her chest rise and fall more slowly with each passing breath. She only ever falls asleep this quickly when she’s exhausted and he makes note to ask her tomorrow how things went in more detail, works to ignore the creeping bitterness that he wasn’t able to be there himself. 

 The crickets chirp lazily outside and as he rests there, it occurs to him that if this is peace, it isn’t all that bad. 


End file.
